


The Man Who Sold The World

by copperbadge



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-28
Updated: 2007-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 21:07:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperbadge/pseuds/copperbadge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One night he wakes up, 'cos the telly's on, and Sam's not there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man Who Sold The World

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Some content in this could be read as Intimate Partner Violence.
> 
> Also available [in Russian!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/4195713)

Sam has terrible nightmares. Nearly every night. 

Hunt figures it's a typical copper thing -- some of 'em are high strung, never get quite used to all the things they see. Sam's like that. Uncomfortable in his own skin. That's why Hunt's there, to give him a good fuckin' dose of reality when he needs it. 

One night he wakes up, 'cos the telly's on, and Sam's not there. He hardly ever stays the night -- on account of the dreams, right? -- and anyway Hunt's none too comfortable with the idea that he might be a pouf, so it's easier on everyone if they fuck and then Sam fucks off (and fucking at Sam's place would be stupid, have you seen the size of his bed?). 

But the telly's on, and why would Sam turn the telly on before he left?

Sam's not in the bed but, when Hunt sits up all confused because the telly's on, he sees him sitting at the foot of the bed, back to the footboard. Starin' at the test card.

"What the fuck are you doing, you daft bumwipe?" Never let it be said that Sam's lover is at a loss for words.

Sam doesn't answer, so Hunt gets out of bed and puts himself between Sam and the telly. He'll clip him round the ear if he needs it, and Sam does sometimes need it. But he's more wary of Sam than he used to be because Sam will slug him back, and he's a wiry little bastard. 

Sam's eyes don't move, pupils hugely dilated. He's shivering. 

"Sam. Sam. Arsehole. I'm up here," Hunt says, and picks Sam up by the collar of his shirt. They rarely undress -- Sam'd probably like to, but if he's got to fuck around with another man, Gene Hunt's not going to be naked while he does it. Sam doesn't fight the lift, but he isn't a passive body either -- his legs are under him and he goes with the rise, head still forward, eyes still huge and unfocused. He stands on his own. Hunt doesn't let go.

"Right, you little bugger," he says, and raises a hand to smack him -- not hard, just enough to get his attention. Sam catches his wrist without looking. And it _hurts._

Then Sam does turn his head slightly, and he meets Hunt's eyes, and Hunt is suddenly frightened, pit-of-stomach frightened in a way he hasn't been since he was a flatfoot. It's dark and alien, what he sees in Sam's eyes.

"Yeah? Guv?" Sam says, in a voice that is terribly wrong. 

And the next thing Hunt says doesn't make any sense, even to him. "Are you there or here, Sam?"

"Little bit'a both," Sam replies. "You should see it, Guv. You'd hate it."

"Hate what?"

Sam closes his eyes and smiles, and when he opens his eyes again they're not alien or hard or endless, they're just Sam's eyes. Curious and a little confused, just like always.

"Why's the TV on?" he asks.

"Why's the -- I should -- " Hunt stops, lets go of Sam's shirtfront. He shoves him. "Go back to bed."

"Thought I ought to go home," Sam mumbles.

"That's just what I need. _Detective Inspector crashes car into lamppost, returning from sordid buggery with superior officer_ ," Hunt replies. "Stay the fuck here."

Sam looks behind him, twisting his thin body around to glance at the bed, and then shrugs. "Whatever you say, Guv."

He settles back down on the sheet, pulling the blanket across his hips. 

"Are you a nutter, Sam?" Hunt asks, standing over him, head tilted. "Are you a nutter as well as a fairy?"

"Might be."

"Might be which?"

"Might be both," Sam says, eyes drifting shut. 

Sam has nightmares, just about every night, and once in a while Hunt wakes up to find the telly on. But he never sees the darkness in Sam's eyes again, and Sam is still here with him in 1973, not off in whatever world he used to live in before he came here. Hunt's not stupid. He knows Sam is out of place, he knows he wandered into this life by mistake. 

But. Sam stayed.

This is now and this is real, and Sam can have his nightmares and his crazytime with the telly if Hunt gets to keep him for good. 

END

 _Although I wasn't there, he said I was his friend_  
_Which came as some surprise I spoke into his eyes_  
_I thought you died alone, a long long time ago_  
\-- David Bowie


End file.
